


Vulpes: Memoriae

by Adira_Tyree



Series: Fallout: Returning Home [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Expect anything, F/M, Fallout: Returning Home, I probably missed something, Look it's just really dark, Non-Sexual Bondage, Original Character Death(s), Pregnancy, Rape, Rope Bondage, Slavery, Sometimes it will be graphic too, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 41
Words: 15,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adira_Tyree/pseuds/Adira_Tyree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (slightly) younger Vulpes receives an unexpected gift from Caesar as a reward for becoming head of the Frumentarii, and his life changes in ways he never expected. This is the story of Calista, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THESE NOTES. IMPORTANT THINGS HERE.
> 
> This is a very dark story. I might go so far as to call it unpleasant. While everything that happens in it happens for a reason, many of those reasons are twisted and disturbing. I sometimes feel nauseous knowing that I wrote this. At the same time, I know that I have toned it down a lot from what I had planned - so it could be far worse, I suppose. I will also say that this was a bit of an experiment. When writing this, I made it my goal to make each chapter at least 400 words but no longer than a single page (single-spaced, size 12 font). Each chapter is a new flash, a new memory, from the point of view of Vulpes Inculta. While I say it is Calista's story, it is really the story of Sylva through the eyes of Vulpes. It may be helpful to know now that this story starts not long after the First Battle of Hoover Dam. 
> 
> This is a very, very uncomfortable, triggery story. There are tags at the beginning of each chapter for triggers, that way you can skip chapters even if you would like to read the majority of this work. Some chapters are 'easy' to get through, others are much harder. Even for me. And I wrote it.
> 
> You have been warned. 
> 
> [Chapter I Notes](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/90661039342/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-i-notes)  
> CHAPTER ONE TAGS: slavery

            She was too young, that much was obvious. He pitied her as he saw her staring down the man flanking him, held back a half-hearted laugh when she snarled at his approach. None of the other women were quite as young as she was, but she looked to be at least 16. Old enough to bear children, but too young to rear them. Her hips were still narrow with youth, but she was not without curves. Her long, brown hair fell in a ratty braid past her waist, and dirt stained her face.

            “A gift for you, Vulpes,” Caesar Primus said from beside him. “I’ve taken the liberty of naming her Sylva. She comes from a tribe deep in the forests to the North. I had her sent all the way here from Flagstaff just for you.”

            Vulpes cocked his head to the side and looked her over more obviously, for Caesar’s benefit. “I thank you, Imperator. She is quite beautiful.”

            Caesar laughed, clapping a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “She’s a bit spirited,” he said, watching as she crouched down to the ground and barred her teeth at the both of them. “Still, she’ll make you a fine wife and fierce children. Congratulations on your promotion. Now don’t make me look a fool for supporting you. I need you to start immediately on work to infiltrate the NCR posted at the Dam.”

            Vulpes gave a low nod in response. “It will be done.”

            “Good. I expect a report within a month. Vale.” Caesar turned away, heading back up the hill.

            “Vale,” Vulpes echoed, though he knew Caesar was out of earshot. It was just the proper thing to do. He turned to face the Slave Master.

            “Bring her to my tent, and see that she is secured there to the center beam,” he said.

            The Slave Master nodded, pulling the young woman by a chain around her neck. She made a terrible noise as she started to choke from the pressure, scrambling to get up and walk with him. Her glare burned into his skin as she walked away, looking over her shoulder.

            Even the harshest of beatings did not compare to the sting of her hateful gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWO TAGS: slavery, bondage (non-sexual), general cruelty

            “You’re a monster,” Sylva growled, staring up at him from the ground. Her lips were bloody and raw from trying to chew through the rope that bound her hands together. She’d made little progress through the night. “You’re all monsters!”

            Vulpes sighed, reaching forward to run his hand through her hair. She snapped at him, trying to grip his fingers in her teeth, but he caught her jaw and held it.

            “I do not enjoy this,” he said quietly, leaning close to her face. “I would rather let you roam freely here but you insist on making these foolish attempts to attack soldiers, as though you could escape or perhaps kill your way out of this encampment. You are obviously misguided, so let me tell this to you now, clear and unpolluted: there is no escape. You will be here until this encampment is taken down and we return to the capital, or you will die trying to leave before then. Am I clear?”

            Sylva glared at him, her eyes blazing with hate. “If I die then I have escaped,” she said with a snarl, pulling her jaw free from his hand.

            Vulpes straightened himself with a sigh, brushing off his armor. “Then I must take every care not to allow that.”

            He shook his head, exiting the tent. As the flap fell back behind him, he could hear her beginning again to chew at the ropes on her wrists. She needed to be stopped; the fact that in a month’s time he has not broken in his new woman was an embarrassment he could not afford.

            Men walked past his tent pretending not to hear her words. His other slaves kept their faces to the ground, not acknowledging her. Part of him expected the whole tent to have burned down around her fury every night when he returned.

            He knew what had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author's Notes here at Tumblr.](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/91046234767/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-ii-notes)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THREE TAGS: slavery, bondage (non-sexual), domestic violence, not-so-subtle allusion to rape, cruelty, psychological torment, and generally sickening content. The actual rape is not, and will not be, written.

            Vulpes waited for her to wake back up.

            He’d bound her hands together with the center of a long rope. From there, each end wrapped around under the bed and around an ankle, spreading them far apart. If she struggled to pull her hands down from above her head, it would only spread her legs further from each other.

            The time had crept by, and the priestesses were waiting patiently at the edge of the tent. Vulpes stared at her, elbows resting on his knees as he sat on a flimsy metal chair beside the bed. Three hours had passed since he’d hit her across the back of the head. She’d blacked out instantly, crumpling to the floor like the limp tail of a dead coyote.

            As she blearily opened her eyes Vulpes motioned for the priestesses to do their work. He nodded to the head priestess, and she carefully began a long prayer in Latin while the two other women carefully applied oil to Sylva’s fully exposed skin.

            “What are you doing?” Sylva asked, a note of panic in her voice. Her eyes darted between the women, then to Vulpes in his chair.

            “You are to be my wife,” Vulpes said calmly. “I intend to make you be as such.”

            “No,” Sylva said, barring her teeth. “I will not be your wife, I will be nothing to you—“

            “I am sure of that. You give me no reason to care for your well-being.” As the priestesses finished their work on Sylva, Vulpes stood and slowly removed his clothing. The women then performed a similar ritual on him as he continued to speak. “At least you will bear my children. If it were not for that, I am not sure you would be in such fine physical condition any longer.”

            The priestesses chanted quietly, on and on.

            “You sick fuck,” Sylva spat. “You will rot in hell for what you do.”

            “Yes,” Vulpes said quietly, “I’ve been told that before.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author's Notes here at Tumblr.](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/93742283177/vulpes-memoriae-ch-iii-notes)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FOUR TAGS: violence, hubris.

            When the retching started Vulpes tried, briefly, to feel pity for Sylva. The absence of her monthly bleeding three weeks prior only confirmed it: she was pregnant.

            He admitted, if only to himself, the sense of pride he felt over it; he had started a child in this feral woman’s belly, dominating her to the fullest. She could not now, for the next several months, or perhaps even ever, forget that he had taken her and that she was his. That she had yielded to him, willingly or not.

            The fact that she was still pregnant, even after all her attempts to stop the pregnancy from beginning, only made him more proud. He laughed, pulling her head back with a fist in her hair and resting his other hand on her still-flat stomach.

            “Soon they will all be able to see what I know is hidden in there,” he said, tightening his fist. He could feel the taught hair pulling against her scalp. “Soon everyone will see that you fell to me and will do my bidding. How much shame do you feel? I cannot imagine the thoughts in your pathetic mind now.”

            Sylva snarled through her exposed throat, but he did not punish her for it. In truth, he hadn’t even planned to be holding her so harshly. The woman brought out the rage in him.

            A sudden pain across the side of his face nearly made him drop her, but he caught her arm and bent the wrist back nearly to the breaking point. She shrieked in pain, fingers falling open and dropping the straight razor she’d hidden against her leg. It fell to the dirt, blade open and glinting in the low light.

            He held her captive still by her hair as she squirmed, and lifted his hand to the small streak of blood against his face.

            She laughed, quietly at first and then louder, until it was a full on cackling and near-giddy raucous noise drowning out all other noises in the camp. “And now they will all know that even a broken slave-woman bound in your own arms can still wound you,” she spat. Her laughter rivaled that of the ancient Furies taking the blood they’re due.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes listed [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/98802482057/vulpes-memoriae-ch-iv-notes).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FIVE TAGS: continued emotional abuse.

            The cut healed quickly, but Vulpes’ wound remained. He kept himself in check around her after that night; they had both learned their lessons. The pale scar above his cheek reminded him that she was not powerless against him. She no longer taunted him, and the constant soreness and ache between her legs lessened.

            Part of him grew to like the woman over time. The same could not be said for her in relation to him. She was strong and fierce, never breaking no matter how far he bent her. Still, every day she hated him just as much as the last.

            Vulpes found quickly that her pregnancy tested his patience. The thought of waiting a full nine months from conception was excruciating. He would have his son, but never soon enough.

            Thinking of his unborn child only served to make him agitated. There were times when he was working through plans at his desk only to find that he had stopped planning hours earlier in favor of thinking over names for the boy. Leo, lion. Marcus, defense. Caius. Sophus. Nicon. Trophaeum. Perhaps even Vulpecula.

            He chose to ignore Sylva’s attempts at suggesting a name from her own people. Even if she’d suggested a name he liked, this boy would be Legion.

            “There was a time when you weren’t ‘Vulpes Inculta,’ when you weren’t a Legion bitch,” Sylva said. She was playing a dangerous game. Even though her words dug under his skin, he kept his silence.

            A Legion man had no other name than his Latin name – not even Vulpes Inculta, Fox of the Mojave. He had been born to a tribal woman and answered to a tribal name many years ago, yes. But he hadn’t answered to that name since the day that Caesar took him in. Caesar made him a part of something bigger than himself. His birth name was worth little in comparison.

            "There was a time when I suckled at my mother’s tit, too,” he said, slowly so as to emphasize every drop of his intent. “We all come from the weakest beginnings. It is what we make of ourselves that matters.”

“There is always room for improvement,” she said bitterly, turning away. She scratched at the collar around her neck. “Even in you, Fox.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SIX TAGS: dubcon/noncon

            Fever.

            Fever was something Vulpes found he could actually fear.

            Death himself couldn’t frighten him.

            When Sylva came down with a deep and heavy fever, he was terrified. The life of his son hung in the balance, and he was near powerless to save the boy. The priestesses had taken her away to watch over her at the temple, far across the camp.

            The tent seemed relentlessly quiet and empty without Sylva’s constant anger to radiate into the room. If it weren’t for the worry over the child, he suspected he would sleep better than normal with her gone.

            He paced back and forth, wearing a rut into the ground where he pressed it down step-by step-by-step with his fear that she would lose the child.

            Caesar even came to visit him personally, offering to lay his blessing on the woman.

            Vulpes turned his mind away, satisfied for the time being that she was being well cared for. He did not look forward to leaving, but he was a soldier – leaving home was what he was made to do. If he was able to pull off their plan, another of the NCR bases along the border would fall silent in the night. He needed to focus.

            The scar on his cheek twinged, the sudden flash of pain reminding him not to be caught off guard. He absently pressed his rough fingertips against the raised flesh, the slight pain already gone.

            Failure was not an option in Caesar’s Legion.

            Failure could not be an option in Vulpes’ Frumentarii. Not even in himself.

            Sylva and the child would not die; he would not allow it to happen. And if it did happen, it only provided reason to make an example of her to the other slaves.

            He called Europa to him from her place at the far end of the tent. She obediently walked straight to him in silence, head bowed, kneeling down in front of him expectantly. Instead, he flipped her around, bending her over with no hint of kindness, and took her with all the pent up anger and anxiety he felt – leaving her a swollen, wet mess on the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SEVEN TAGS: large-scale murder, deception, war crimes, and all those other things the Frumentarii are so good at.

            The feel of the bones snapping beneath his hands as he quickly twisted around the necks of the NCR troopers one-by-one with the best of his Frumentarii was like no other. Each moved carefully as to not wake any other troops. As the troopers all slowly met their ends, Vulpes couldn’t help but smile.

            As soon as they were done, and the room lifeless but for the three Legion men, they quietly slipped back outside and lingered at the front door. Cato and Drusus sat down casually at the table by the door and resumed a half-played round of poker, Cato loudly cursing his bad luck as he folded in his hand. Drusus laughed triumphantly, adjusted his trooper helmet, and shuffled the deck while Vulpes leaned against the wall of the building. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, leaning his head back.

            Within an hour, three other soldiers came to relieve them from duty. The trio walked quietly into the second bunk building, Vulpes flicking the remains of a second cigarette into the dirt as he walked in behind the other two. One of the guards at the door sneered at him, saying he stunk like a burned down tobacco farm. The smirk he returned revealed stained teeth – by tea, not smoke.

            Inside the one-room building was dark, quiet but for the sounds of snoring men. Three beds near the door were empty, still warm from use. Drusus carefully peered into the bathrooms and gave a nod. They were empty.

            Vulpes knew that his heart would be pounding if not for the tobacco he’d flooded his lungs with. The end of a mission was always nerve-wracking. If it failed at the beginning, it would be easy to fall back and try again from a different angle. At the end there was no chance of recovery.

            They slipped into the beds and waited. If anyone was awake, it would blow their cover and the mission would fail. The blood pounded in his ears, though his breathing was slow and calm. A rustling sound to his right; just a trooper rolling over in his sleep.

            Fifteen minutes slipped by, twenty. The three Frumentarii were wide awake. Sitting up, Vulpes carefully arranged the bed to appear as though it hadn’t been used, Cato and Drusus doing the same on either side of him.

            When all three were ready, he gave the nod.

            Only moments later, they crept out the back door of the bunk building and into the wastes, over sixty dead NCR troopers lying in their beds behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes posted [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/99287694257/vulpes-memoriae-ch-vii-notes).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER EIGHT TAGS: more slavery? Slavery is kind of throughout. By kind of I mean totally.

            Vulpes couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked back into the all too familiar Fortification Hill, victorious. Stepping through the flap into Caesar’s tent, he approached at the Imperator’s beckoning gesture.

            He beat his fist against his chest in solute, bowing his head.

            “Vulpes! I presume you’ve been successful in your mission then?” Caesar asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

            “Yes, Imperator. Sixty-three of the seventy-one NCR troopers stationed at the camp eliminated silently in the night with no sign of suspicion.” Vulpes reminded himself to keep the obvious pride out of his voice as best he could. “The sign of the bull stands proud at the center of the camp as well,” he added, “so that there is no need to guess whose handiwork it was.”

            “Excellent,” Caesar said, leaning back comfortably. He leaned his chin against his fist as Vulpes continued.

            “Ulysses and Alerio are already spreading rumors of the atrocity along the New Vegas Strip and nearby settlements. The attack will be common knowledge within a few days at most.”

            “Then we proceed apace.” Caesar shifted, motioning for a slave to bring him a drink. “I assume you’re interested in hearing how your wife is doing?”

            Vulpes only nodded, not wanting to show either weakness or disrespect, and unsure he could quickly find appropriate words.

            Caesar took a long drink from the glass of water handed to him by a young woman adorned with nothing but her slave collar and numerous beaded body piercings and tattoos. The Imperator’s gaze lingered on her briefly, before he returned his attention back to Vulpes.

            “New girl here from one of the tribes far to the South of here. She’s really quite something. Maybe I’ll let you try her out sometime,” Caesar smiled, watching the girl again. She grinned back at him.

            Vulpes had to work to maintain a blank face through his surprise.

            “Oh,” Caesar added, picking up from the lost thought. “You’re wife’s fine now. She’s back at your tent, violent as ever.”

            The breath he let go of was more relieving than he’d imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/99386217642/vulpes-memoriae-ch-viii-notes).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER NINE TAGS: emotional and psychological abuse. Also, sorry for forgetting tags for the last chapter and this; I've fixed it now.

            Vulpes sat at his desk, drumming his fingers quietly along its metal surface. Across the room, Europa was carefully bathing a temperamental Sylva, whose hands had needed to be bound in order to keep her from running away. Since she had made it into her fourth month of the pregnancy, her slave collar had been removed for the sake of the child’s safety.

            Dealing with her, however, had proven to be more than Vulpes could easily handle.

            She stared at him, hate radiating from her eyes. “You sick fuck,” she muttered, her lips barely moving.

            Europa slowly sponged away the dirt from her shoulders.

            “Quiet yourself,” he said, just as quiet. “This constant noise is… unbecoming of you.”

            “Would you listen if I told you to stop murdering the men and women of my homeland? Would you listen if I told you I wanted my friends to be here for me while I’m in this,” she gestured to growing stomach, “ _predicament_. What if—“

            “No,” he said, cutting her off. Her unending banter rattled on in his head well after she’d gone silent every night.

            Sylva slept in a separate bed. They said it was so that she could be more comfortable while she was with child. Vulpes knew better. Sylva did too.

            “You don’t even know who I am,” she said. The anger deflated from her voice.

            Vulpes turned on her, closing his eyes to calm himself before standing. A quick jerk of his head told Europa to get out; she dropped the sponge into the bath and immediately found somewhere else to be.

            He walked to her, dropped to his knees beside the small tub and picked up the sponge. “You are mine,” he said, running it across her back. “You are my wife. You are the mother of my child. You,” he leaned close to her ear and dropped his voice to a whisper, “are Sylva.”

            “I am not _Sylva_. I have never been Sylva. I will _never_ be Sylva. And I will _never_ be your wife. I am Tyen’s wife, J—“

            A hand pressed against her mouth. “Shh,” he whispered. “I don’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/99498363367/vulpes-memoriae-ch-ix-notes).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TEN TAGS: humiliation, (post-)suicide-attempt

            Every muscle in Vulpes’ body was tense; he was always like this, less than a thought away from springing into action. Reaction.

            Sylva had tried to poison herself.

            As a punishment, Vulpes had bound her to the center beam of his tent. Caesar had had her walked through the camp, fully naked, and brought to his tent. His tent and Vulpes’ were mere feet away, but she’d been forced to march up and down every road in Fortification Hill. When she reached the end of her “triumph,” he’d had Lora –Caesar’s tattooed slave– shave Sylva’s long, long hair down to nothing.

            Vulpes had to remind himself that this was to punish her, not him. The loss of his woman’s hair was near insulting, but she needed to learn that there were consequences with every action. They had all been soft on her, too concerned for the well-being of the child in her belly to punish her properly.

            Caesar had been furious, suggesting many punishments that were so vile that even Vulpes had to stifle his reaction. This, though humiliating, was the least cruel.

            He laid awake in his tent that night, wondering why he had tried to help her when all she had done was make his life miserable. Her sobs didn’t give him any pleasure, nor did they upset him. The sheer effort he had put into sparing her pain confused him.

            When he’d lead her back to their tent, she’d remained silent. No tears streamed down her face, no sign of her disgrace apparent. Now that she was alone, or as close to it as she could be, she dealt with her problems on her own.

            Europa sat quietly at Vulpes knees, her head laying on his lap as he worked through plans and profiles. He could tell that she wanted to go to Sylva, to try to comfort her.

            But he also knew that Sylva wouldn’t want her. Wouldn’t let her. Sylva didn’t depend on anyone for anything, and now wouldn’t be the time for her to start.

            It was the one thing Vulpes could respect about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/99512275992/vulpes-memoriae-ch-x-notes).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER ELEVEN TAGS: more discussion of slavery

            The sixth month of Sylva’s pregnancy was the hardest yet. She complained, constantly, of soreness and of tingling pain. The priestesses assured her this was usual, and it would be more concerning if she was not in pain.

            “Like I give a shit,” she yelled, but they didn’t fight back.

            “It is normal for your emotions to be heightened,” they would say, going on about how it was her body responding to her situation. How it was simply working to show how protective she was of her child.

            Sylva didn’t like that answer, but knew better now than to try to harm herself — or the baby. She had already been hurt by that before.

            Vulpes smirked at the thought of how she was finally beginning to be broken in. His work had been worth all the effort.

            Caesar kept telling him he was too light on her, that she needed to be punished and broken down into the willing slave she should be.

            “I have my willing slaves already,” he said, careful not to offend. “She is… more interesting to break in slowly, little by little. I would rather make it last, if my Lord Imperator does not object.”

            Caesar laughed, watching as Europa gently sponged away the dirt from Sylva’s neck, the pair sitting quietly in the bath. “Do what you like with her. Hell, I’d even let you borrow Lora to give her some interesting piercings if you want.”

            Vulpes gaze drifted to the woman behind Caesar. Her wild hair, the black lines and patterns up and down her skin, the piercings along her ears and lips and nipples.

            Caesar followed Vulpes gaze and leaned in closer to whisper to him. “It’s like she’s always ready. I swear it you just breathe on them and her cunt starts dripping, that’s how sensitive they are.”

            Vulpes laughed, and so did Caesar. “Come to my tent tonight. I have some things to discuss with you,” Caesar said, continuing in a more normal volume.

            Vulpes nodded once. “Of course, Imperator.” He bowed slightly as Caesar walked from the tent. “Vale.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWELVE TAGS: slavery related things, again/still.

            Vulpes went to Caesar’s tent, as asked. When Caesar asked him to return the following night, he did so again, and again, and every night for three weeks. Each night, Lora watched him, and each night, he pretended to ignore her.

            But he was a Frumentarius. His purpose was to watch without anyone knowing, and he was good at it. She stared at him, openly, and he was sure she knew he was ignoring her. It only made her seem to watch with more vigor.

            And when, one night, Caesar went to sleep early, complaining of a headache, Vulpes left to return to his tent, Lora followed him.

            She crept up behind him and took his wrist in her hand. Vulpes knew she was there, but he still spun around and put a knife to her throat as though he hadn’t.

            No emotion showed in her eyes as she stood there, crouched near the ground. “Come,” she whispered. “Come with me.”

            He studied her expression – desire and interest predominant, but the pulse in her wrist gave away her fear. Her skin was hot against his. She was beautiful, but he had no interest in taking any woman of Caesar’s without his express permission.

            “No,” he said flatly, letting go of her. “Go back to your tent.”

            “Come with me,” she repeated, her hand moving to Vulpes’ hips.

            “No.”

            “Let me please you… let me show you how a real woman feels against you…”

            “You are Caesar’s woman,” he said, pulling her hand away. “Go be with him.”

            She didn’t falter. “Come,” she said again. “Let me be with a man with _real_ power.”

            “No.” He turned around, finding himself facing the Imperator.

            “I knew you were the loyal one,” he said, a large grin across his face. “Even the Legate fell for her. But you resisted. Three times you chose your loyalty over your groin. That’s better than any other man in this camp of your rank.”

            “Even Lucius?” Vulpes asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Lucius is a Praetorian. It could not be his duty to take my place when I die. But for you, now, it will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes posted [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/99960069322/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xii-notes).


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTEEN TAGS: snark? We're into a mellow-ish section.

            No one was to be told of Caesar’s choice to name Vulpes his successor. It would not be made official until his son was born, and a bloodline thus ensured. Caesar himself seemed anxious for it, but Vulpes remained as blank-faced as ever.

            More and more often Caesar would retire early, complaining of headaches. Vulpes put it off usually, deciding it was simply stress about the war and the dam. With each passing day though they were closer and closer to the victory he so desired.

            Even worse, Vulpes was suffering headaches – brought on by Sylva. She was becoming more and more intolerable, complaining day in and day out. When she started constantly asking for specific foods, he largely ignored her. When she demanded foot-rubs, he completely ignored her, though Europa often gave in to her, which Vulpes assumed was out of some sort of sympathy, as she had been pregnant before herself.

            Still, each time she asked (demanded) for something, she would never directly ask Vulpes himself. She was too proud. Even with her hair cut so short, now only barely longer than Vulpes’ own, she was filled with her absurd sense of pride.

            It was pointless, in Vulpes’ mind. Such pride would get her nowhere with him. He was sure she realized that she would get further with servility than she would nearly any other way. It was her job, as a woman, and as a wife, to submit to him.

            “If there were a more annoying way to beg for attention,” Vulpes mused, “I would be sure to inform you.”

            Sylva laughed, throwing her head back in genuine amusement. “If you told me, I wouldn’t use it.”

            “And that is precisely why I would,” he said. His face betrayed just the slightest smirk.

            “Not a bad plan then,” Sylva said. She stood with slow, aggravated movements, trying to accommodate her fast growing stomach. Her feet stumbled over each other as she tried to move towards him, unable to find the balance once so easy for her.

            “Sit down,” Vulpes said. His tone was stern as he stared at her. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

            Sylva rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. Vulpes couldn’t help but notice the way she favored her side as she did so.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FOURTEEN TAGS: politics?

            By the time Sylva was midway through her third trimester, Vulpes was ready to tear his hair out. Some nights he chose to stay working late in Caesar’s tent until he fell asleep in his chair there, just to keep away from her. Not even Europa could take his mind off Sylva’s complaints – and she was a talented woman.

            Still, all his time in Caesar’s tent was not fruitless. He quickly developed various plans to continue his work infiltrating the NCR camps nearby, even one to infiltrate the dam itself.

            “Cato has been working with Ulysses to find books across the Mojave which could train some of my men on the use of the machinery and electronics that control the Dam. They have found several useful texts, and Cato himself has studied them extensively,” Vulpes explained.

            Caesar leaned his chin against his hand, listening intently.

            Vulpes continued when Caesar offered no input. “He believes that he would be able to find employment at the Dam now. This would allow him to keep track of the NCR’s operations within the facility, and, should you ever desire it for any reason, sabotage the building and its contents.”

            “Excellent,” Caesar said, standing up with a smile. “I can see all those hours you’ve spent in here have paid off.”

            Vulpes decided it was better to respond non-verbally, only nodding.

            “Is she driving you crazy?” he asked, his grin sliding into a smirk. Before Vulpes could reply, Caesar continued. “They all do that in the last few weeks. It’s pretty normal. Worse when they hate you, and it’s not like she’s known for being docile.”

            Vulpes grinned. “She can be a challenge, but I prefer not to take her on in it. I would rather let her save up her strength for the birth.”

            “A wise choice,” Caesar said with a nod. “I trust you will not be needing any more slaves to help care for the child?”

            “No, my Imperator. Between Europa and Petrus I am sure both I and the child will be well looked after.”

            “Good, good. If it turns out that isn’t the case, feel free to pick through the pens for someone new. I’ll see to it there’s no cost.” Caesar motioned to Lora for a glass of water.

            Vulpes couldn’t help but notice that Caesar kept her clothed now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FIFTEEN TAGS: uh?

            When Sylva’s water broke, it was difficult for Vulpes to decide who was more nervous – Sylva or he himself.

            The birth itself was the most dangerous part of the whole process. Anything could happen. Sickness, infection, problems with the birth itself, the child could be facing the wrong direction, or become tangled in its own cord. Then there was the matter of the mother herself, and what she might do to the child to either protect it from Vulpes or anger him.

            He wasn’t sure she would find it below herself to even kill the child, just to keep it from him. She would have to be closely watched.

            Slowly, he began to realize the nightmare was far from over.

            This revelation only became clearer as the day went on. Hours later, she was still not ready for the birth.

            “Is there nothing that can be done to speed things up?” he asked, pacing back and forth in his tent. There really was a rut worn into the ground there now.

            “Relax” Caesar told him, shaking his head. “It’ll be over soon enough. Give your boy a good Latin name, and then you can go on about your mission.”

            The mission. Vulpes had completely forgotten about it in his fury to have his son finally in his arms. This caused no problems, fortunately – he was the only one involved this time. Cato had been deployed to the Dam, Ulysses still walked the Mojave as a courier, Picus was doing well in his position as a Captain at Camp McCarran, and Drusus was working with the new Frumentarii recruits day in and day out.

            Vulpes was going the one place he could not mention, to see a man that did not exist.

            He was going to personally finish off the Burned Man, once and for all. A task that had been given to soldiers, snipers, and Frumentarii alike. None returned.

            When the Burned Man no longer walked, Caesar would be ready to press forward again with his plans. Until then, though Vulpes knew Caesar would never put it to words, Caesar would never be able to continue.

            Soon the Burned Man would die.

            And with his death, Vulpes would rise to glory.

            “A Latin name?” Vulpes asked in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Putting this here because I know I won't get around to my notes for the last three chapters for a bit. I have this headcanon that I decided to include, that boys in the Legion have to earn their Latin names. If they survive their training and actually become soldiers, they get a Latin name. It's almost like their first stripe. So Caesar saying to Vulpes that the child should be given a Latin name at birth carries a lot of weight. It mostly ties back to the fact that -this is THE bloodline- now. So this baby matters a lot more now than it did even before. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll write up notes tomorrow? Busy day, not sure.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SIXTEEN TAGS: disgusting, horrible misogyny, and disturbing suggestions straight out of ancient Rome.

            There were many things Vulpes had seen in his life that should not be recounted. Few of them compared to watching the birth of a child.

            When the priestess guided his hands towards the wriggling mess of life helped him to catch the child himself, he forgot how to breathe.

            And when the infant came fully into his grasp, he forgot what air even was.

 

            It was a girl.

 

            Nine full months of waiting. Nine months of agony and anxiety and and struggle, praying for a strong boy to bring pride to his name. Nine months and he had nothing to show for it but a miserable, slobbering girl that didn’t even have the decency to cry properly. The baby girl stared up at him, her tiny chest rising and falling with each new breath.

            A girl. A girl that would grow up to be nothing but a slave.

            Vulpes turned to look at his wife, his slave-woman whose birth-name he didn’t even know, and realized that she too had started with such meager beginnings. This was what this baby girl was destined for: to scrub and fuck and belong to some soldier. His own blood.

            He handed the child to the priestess, his hands suddenly numb.

            This changed everything.

            Caesar, when told this news, told him the child should be exposed. “There’s no place for a girl here. We’re in the middle of a war. Raising baby girls isn’t useful when we can just go out there and take women. Men we can raise into soldiers. Women? Women have little value here.”

            “If my Lord Imperator will allow it, I would like to expose the child myself,” Vulpes said, looking Caesar directly in the eye.

            Caesar considered it for a moment, but agreed. “You’re a good soldier, Vulpes. Now pack up your things and head East. You know what to do.”

            Vulpes gave a short bow and a salute, “thank you, Imperator. Vale. True to Caesar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes for this chapter and the next are combined into one post, [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/101072055102/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xvi-xvii-notes).


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN TAGS: Vulpes is a vile, horrible human being.

            “Give me back that child!” Sylva screamed.

            “No,” Vulpes said quietly. He looked down at the infant, so small that he easily held it with one hand. So much trouble over something so tiny. It seemed hardly worth the effort.

            “She’s **my** daughter! You can’t—” Sylva struggled to sit up, gasping for breath, but one of the priestesses held her still.

            With a deep breath, he turned to face the woman, bending down to speak against her ear. “Tell me you want this life for her,” he whispered to her. “Tell me you want some man to do to her what I do to you every day.”

            She stared up at him, eyes like molten bronze. "Better to be alive and fight than dead and have no chance to."

            Vulpes smirked as he walked away. “Defiant to the last.”

            “Give her to me,” she snarled. The deep growl of her voice reminded him of when he first saw her, with a collar around her neck and fire in her eyes.

            “You will not see this child again. In the end, I think a normal woman would thank me, but you won’t – if only because **I** am the one to do this to you.” He glanced back over his shoulder at her. She was sitting up straight; her pride never broke, even at her darkest hours. “Goodbye Sylva. I will return in one month’s time.”

            “Where are you going with her?” she asked, the strength in her voice surprising him.

            “I thought I would take a walk along the Colorado and watch the sun set over the canyon,” he said, avoiding her real question.

            She stared him down. “If I could skin you alive in your sleep, _I would do so_. I would skin you down to the rotting meat you are and _wear_ **_your_ ** hide like you wear that _dog.”_

            “I’m sure,” he said simply. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes for this chapter and the previous are combined into one post, [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/101072055102/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xvi-xvii-notes).


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN TAGS: Serious decisions, endangering the life of a child.

            Beyond the rippling lights of New Vegas was a different kind of beauty: quiet, cool, and dark. The Colorado River twisted its way along into the night, farther than anyone could see.

            “A beautiful place to die,” Vulpes thought to himself, siting at the edge of a cliff. One step forward and he would fall nearly 200ft, so said the worn out books that he’d read about it. The troops all whispered about this place, though there was no name for it. Caesar would not allow it; giving the place a name would call attention to it.

            It felt hard to believe that only a year earlier he had stood on this same point and watched as Joshua Graham burned bright as the sun and fell, down, and down, and down.

            Failure was not an option in Caesar’s Legion.

            On the ground beside him, the infant lied staring up at the sky. Vulpes tried not to look at her, but she was so tiny and quiet, so very unlike any infant he’d ever seen, that he couldn’t help it. Her tiny grey eyes matched his own as she took in the world around her, still silent as before. The occasional gurgle or coo let him know that she was quiet by choice – a blessing, he knew.

            He picked her up and held her in front of him. “Three hours,” he said, watching her tiny face. “Three hours, and still I sit here with you.”

            She made a quiet little whine, but the noise seemed to startle her back into silence.

            Vulpes laughed, shaking his head. “Such a strange little thing.” It would be easy to let go of her, let her slip down into the canyon like Joshua had nearly a year before. And still he held off.

            His orders from Caesar were to expose the child and put an end to the Burned Man.

            His orders were to kill the child. His daughter. He looked at her, holding her straight out and over the edge of the cliff. Her head flopped back, unsupported, too young to hold it up herself. It seemed so…

            He lay her back across his lap. His firstborn. This girl, however helpless and tiny she was now, was his daughter. If she was half as smart as he was and half as fierce as Sylva, she could grow to be a force to be reckoned with.

            His own blood was in her veins; to kill her would be to allow a part of himself to die.

            He reached into his pack and pulled out a thin blanket. Wordlessly, he wrapped it around over his shoulder and tied it in a loop with her pressed tight to his chest. He had one idea, a horrible, terrible idea. But it could work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes posted [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/101158468577/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xviii-notes).


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER NINETEEN TAGS: Joshua Graham, bargaining, things important to the plot of this series.

            “ _Vulpes Inculta_. Hello, old friend,” Joshua said. “Welcome to Zion.”

            Vulpes tried not to stare at the bandages wrapped around Joshua’s entire body, only his eyes uncovered. What little skin was visible around them was nothing but a pink and brown mass of scar-tissue. “You look different than I remember,” Vulpes said with a grin. “You’ll forgive me, but I cannot call you by your name; Caesar has ordered the death of any man who speaks it.”

            Joshua laughed, shaking his head. “I am not surprised. He is an old and bitter man, one who would rather erase my name from history than remember the glorious death he forced upon me.”

            “And did you die?” Vulpes asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “I did.” Joshua nodded absently. “But I have never been more alive than I am now.”

            Vulpes considered the cryptic comment, but brushed it aside. “I have been sent here to see that you are put into a more… complete state of death.”

            “I see. Then are you here to kill me?” Joshua asked, his head cocked to the side.

            “I was. But I have something else to offer you instead. A deal, of sorts.” Vulpes pulled off his loose profligate shirt and untied the thin blanket wrapped across his chest to reveal the silent baby girl. He set her on his leg and held her so that she leaned back against his stomach as Joshua cocked his head to the side.

            “You raise her, keep her safe until she’s of age, and I will keep Caesar out of Zion. You will be dead, and your people will be safe.”

            Joshua watched him carefully. “Why?” It sounded more like a statement of his suspicion than an actual question.

            Vulpes looked down at the girl as he spoke. “She is my firstborn. Caesar will not allow anyone to raise a girl in the middle of a war zone, and I refuse to kill my own blood. This is my offer. Protect her with your very life, and I will protect yours, your people, and your home. But if anything happens to her, I swear by the blood of Mars and of your God as well, I will hunt you down, skin your charred flesh from your bones and feed it to your people before I burn their homes to the ground.”

            Joshua looked from the child to Vulpes and back. “Does she have a name?”

            “Calista.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes posted over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/101160781167/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xix-notes).


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY TAGS: Family.

            The return to Fortification Hill was easier than he’d imagined. He knew he should feel something more about leaving the girl, but the deal was bound in blood.

            Sylva was miserable, day in and day out. He even considered telling her the child was fine, just to see the woman return to her usual angry self – if she even believed him. Vulpes found the eerie silence even worse than the incessant bitching.

            “Don’t worry,” he said, absently flipping through his paperwork. “As soon as you are healed from this pregnancy we will put another child in that belly of yours.”

            Sylva’s glare burned into the back of his neck. “And risk another girl? Your pride couldn’t take another hit like that.” After that, the woman remained silent, sulking in her bed.

            Vulpes brushed away the comment.

            He thought about the letter he’d left with Joshua for the girl and wondered briefly if he should have mentioned her mother, but a man’s voice cut the thought short.

            “Are you still brooding in here, Fox?”

            Vulpes closed his eyes and carefully hid a heavy sigh. “Drusus. I assume you have a reason to be here?” He didn’t turn around.

            “What, now I need a reason to be here? Come on now, Fox, no need to hide – I’m still going to try and catch your tail and pretend I think you’re not looking.”

            Shaking his head, Vulpes turned to face the man and couldn’t help but smile. Drusus’ grin was infectious, even when Vulpes was in the worst of moods. “Forgive me, it has been a long day. Please, sit down.” He gestured to the chair beside him.

            “Nah,” Drusus said, still smiling. “I just wanted to come remind you that one pain in your ass is enough most days.” He stepped forward slowly towards Vulpes, picking at the dirt under his nails with one hand. “But really,” he looked down at Vulpes, who stood as Drusus approached, “you all right?”

            “I’m well. There is no need to concern yourself with me, just focus on our men. The second battle for the Dam comes nearer every day. No miracle will give me a son to fight in that battle,” Vulpes said. “Still, it is good of you to come.” He put a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and gave a small smile.

            Drusus grinned back, grabbing Vulpes’ shoulder as well. “What are brothers for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes are over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2146044?view_full_work=true).


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE TAGS: Beating and whipping.

            For a solid week Vulpes did nothing but work with Drusus to train young Frumentarii in their arts: stealth, deception, toleration. Even the tiniest of things could give away a man as a spy. A subtle difference in the way he holds his cigarette. An ill-chosen word or the wrong slang. A poor choice of hat.

            While Drusus tested their physical abilities, Vulpes tested their patience.

            “You are Corporal Phearson of the NCR, stationed at Camp Searchlight. What is the name of your commanding officer?” Vulpes barked at the recruit.

            “Uhh Sar—” the boy started. Vulpes cut him off before he could finish the name.

            “Wrong!” Vulpes shouted, cracking his whip across the recruit’s back. Though the flesh turned a deep red where it fell, no Frumentarii, young or old, dared flinch away from the sting of Vulpes’ punishments. “When asked the name of your commanding officer, you give a name! You do not think about it, there are no ‘uhh’s or ‘um’s! Who is your commanding officer?” He asked again, louder, bringing the whip down across his back again.

            “Sergeant Astor, Sir!” the recruit shouted, his face screwed up in concentration.

            “And what is your name?” Vulpes said, speaking quieter again. The whip slashed through the air again, cutting into skin this time.

            “Corporal Phearson, Sir!”

            “Good. You will stand there in that exact spot until the sun has fallen below the horizon. Now straighten yourself up. You will not speak, nor do anything but breathe, not even if I ask you a question. Do you understand?”

            The recruit stood straight, staring forward. “Yes, Sir!”

            “Good.” Vulpes punched him hard in the gut. “Are you a Legion spy?” he asked, then pulled back his arm to throw another punch. “Do you work for Caesar and his Legion?”

            A hand carefully took his shoulder before he could land the blow. Vulpes recognized the grip at once.

            “Imperator.” He dropped his fist to his side and turned to face Caesar. “Was there something you wished to discuss?”

            Caesar grinned and shook his head. “Just here to watch you work, if you don’t mind.”

            Vulpes grinned like a snake. “Of course. Please, enjoy yourself. I have much to do.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO TAGS: scars.

            “Where did you get all your scars?” Sylva asked quietly.

            Vulpes turned around, dropping the shirt he still held.

            Sylva was laying in her bed, not moving but for her eyes on him. In the dark tent, lit only by a small fire, it was hard to see her, but the skin around her eyes was dark and tear-stained.

            With a quiet laugh, Vulpes looked down at his chest, which he was sure was nothing in comparison to his back. Thin lines of raised white flesh crisscrossed back and forth along the length of his torso, some descending below the worn, red fabric at his waist. The woman had been silent for the past several days, so he decided to indulge her with an honest answer.

            “Most of them are from my youth, training as a recruit. I started a little older than most boys, and my skin did not heal as well as theirs would. It was, is, common to be whipped or beaten. It teaches the body not to respond to pain.” He looked down across his skin, taking in all the discolored lines.

            “This,” he continued, holding his forearm out for her to see a thicker scar across it, “was when I learned to dodge a blade, rather than block it.” He showed her the palm of his right hand and continued. “This was when I took my oath as head of the Frumentarii, an oath sealed in blood.”

            Sylva’s eyes looked from one scar to the next, pausing on a crosshatched piece of skin over his sternum, chest, and collarbones.

            “Frumentarius training. Those came just after these,” he said turning again so she could see those along his back. “I broke ranks and lead my contubernium to victory when I was only a Decanus. My Centurion made a display of me, wanted me crucified. But Caesar promoted me to the Frumentarii instead.”

           “Made a display?” Sylva questioned. Vulpes heard her stand, then felt her fingers tracing along the raised skin. “There are hundreds of marks here.”

            “One-hundred-and-twenty-six,” he corrected, “and a few from various other occasions. One for every man I betrayed that day by breaking rank. My contubernium, myself, and my superiors all the way to Caesar.”

            He turned around again and Sylva backed away, crumpling back to her bed. “And this,” he traced the scar still barely visible across his cheek, “I think you remember.”

            Sylva’s eyes brightened just slightly, but she returned to her silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes posted over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/101690398657/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxi-notes).


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE TAGS: Legion drama.

            “Vulpes!” Caesar called, walking at a brisk pace. Vulpes stood instantly from his chair at the table where he had been looking over maps and plans. “I need you to tell me where every one of your Frumentarii are stationed.”

            “I have good men at the Strip, Freeside, Camp McCarran, the Dam, Searchlight, Goodsprings, Red Rock, Bitter—“

            “When was the last time you heard from your man at Bitter Springs?” Caesar asked, cutting him off.

            Vulpes frowned. “He should have reported in last night but never did. We assumed he was simply unable to get away long enough to call in. The journey to do so is difficult, given the formation of the canyon and the height needed to carry a strong radio signal over them.”

            “A runner just came and told me that the Great Khans presence at Bitter Springs has been eliminated, and that the NCR might be pushing into Red Rock as we speak,” Caesar said. “We need to find out what the hell is going on over there.”

            Vulpes was already in motion. “It will be done, Imperator,” he said quickly, jogging out of the tent as he spoke. He ran straight for the communications tent at the far end of the Frumentarii training field, ignoring the men Drusus was working with on stealth movements. With a strong kick-off he jumped right over them as they belly-crawled across the ground.

            “What is it?” Drusus asked, watching as Vulpes cleared the four men in a single jump with ease.

            “Bitter Springs,” he said, then rushed through the tent-flap.

            A man with long blonde hair pulled back into a messy tail sat with one headphone cup pressed against his ear, rapidly writing down everything he heard. Vulpes stood over his shoulder, reading the shorthand message being written out by Gaius –or Plinius as he was called by his fellow Frumentarii.

            The message was from Picus, stationed at Camp McCarran.

_…all men from massacre (Bitter Springs) being moved to 188 trading post to await reassignment. New troops (McCarran) to form new base (Bitter Springs) instead. No news if to push to Red Rock Canyon. Khans seen as nuisance, attack unintentional. All slaughtered, no survivors. No word on Aetius. [Full Stop]_


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR TAGS: arguments? soldier stuff?

            “They’re _not_ ready!” Drusus shouted, hands gripping hard around each invisible word. “If you send one of them out there they’re just going to fuck something up and blow the whole thing.”

            “Then what do you suggest?” Vulpes said, agitation clear in his tone.

            “Send me,” Drusus said. He stood straighter and took a deep breath. “Send me.”

            Vulpes’ brow furrowed as he looked up at the taller man. “Out of the question. I need you here.”

            “And you need someone there too!” Drusus said, waving his hands around.

            “I’ll go myself,” Vulpes said firmly.

            “If you go there’s no one here to keep track of everything. You’re the only one that has any clue what this group of conmen is really up to; if you go and anything happens to you, no one will have any clue how to pick up from here.”

            Vulpes gave a short, dark laugh. “And you assume that when I killed Cerberus he left me with readable files to pick up where he left off? I would not die out there in that miserable place. Picus says there will be, at most, ten men out there.”

            “If they were able to kill Aetius—”

            “Aetius was a master of diplomacy and deception, but inexperienced in battle. It is little surprise he was killed. If we had known the NCR would take their men to murder the weakest of the Khans, we would have sent someone else.”

            “ _Like me,_ ” Drusus said pointedly.

            “No. Not like you. You are the only man here who can train the new recruits while I make ready our plans. I need you here. I will not discuss it further,” Vulpes said in a flat tone. His brother was a good man, but more stubborn than a bighorner at times. “Return to your troops. I can hear them breathing from here,” Vulpes said, looking back down at his desk and looking through Frumentarii profiles.

            Drusus stormed out of the tent, muttering to himself as he went.

            “Europa,” Vulpes called, not looking up.

            The woman obediently rushed to him.

            “Find Petrus and tell him to keep an eye on my brother. Have him polish my armor or something, whatever he has to do to keep outside and in view of Drusus.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE TAGS: Continued non-physical abuse? We're in a rather grey area at the moment.

            By the end of the month, Petrus had polished the armor and sharpened the swords of every Frumentarius and Frumentarius Recruit at Fortification Hill. It had not gone unnoticed by Drusus that he was being watched by his brother’s slave, either, but he’d said nothing directly. Instead he’d chosen to blatantly watch Petrus work while he trained the recruits.

            When Petrus was able to communicate this to Vulpes, no easy feat for a mute and illiterate man, Vulpes couldn’t help but laugh.

            “Well,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m not surprised he’s noticed. Still, keep an eye on him. Do anything you can, whatever you need to do to keep track of him. If you see him trying to leave the Fort, come find me immediately. I don’t care if I’m in a meeting with Caesar, I need to keep him here.”

            “Why don’t you try tying him to that center-beam over there? Worked well enough to keep me here,” Sylva said dryly.

            Vulpes grinned. “I might consider it if I didn’t need him to be working.”

            Sylva rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

            As Vulpes stood and stretched, Petrus stared around the room looking for something to polish. Unfortunately, Petrus seemed to have already polished every one of his weapons – twice.

            “Here,” Vulpes said, then scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper and handed it to Petrus. “Take this down to Supplies and they’ll give you materials to make three new whips. I have a feeling I’ll be needing them, with how miserably these recruits are doing.”

            “Try having them live with you; they’ll sharpen up quick just to get out of here,” Sylva muttered, not looking up.

            Vulpes laughed and pulled a red shirt on over his head. “Perhaps. Is that what you’re looking for? To leave?”

            “Yes,” Sylva said bluntly.

            “Keep reading,” he said quietly. “For now, that’s the only escape you’re getting. If you continue to behave, you will earn more privileges.”

            “Oh yes,” she said, with a heavy sigh. “I get to sit in bed all day and read the same books over and over without an explosive collar wrapped around my neck, so long as I still ask nicely if I need to piss.”

            Vulpes smirked. “Good girl.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX TAGS: I don't know how these poor Frumentarii survive Vulpes.

            Out of the corner of his eye Vulpes saw Sylva standing at the edge of the training field with Europa. Europa looked terrified, as she should be – slave-women weren’t allowed near the fields. They were distracting to troops. Beside her, though, Sylva looked almost bored. As though laws didn't apply to her.

            Leaving Drusus to handle the recruits, Vulpes walked over to the women.

            “Oh hi honey,” Sylva said as he approached, watching the recruits. “I thought I’d come visit you at work. Don’t let me distract you from your…” she glanced between Vulpes and the recruits laying in the sand, most of whom looked nearly dead, “…meeting.”

            “Oh don’t worry, darling. We were just wrapping up anyway,” Vulpes said with a smirk. “Might I remind you that you’re not supposed to be here?”

            “So beat me,” she said, flatly.

            Vulpes considered it for a moment, but then thought better. “No, how about you come with me. I have something that you can do for me.”

            Sylva sighed. “How about I just stand here and go back to pretending you don’t exist. It was a very happy way of existing, compared to most days.”

            “That’s exactly what I want you to do. Come with me.” Vulpes grinned and pulled her by the wrist towards the recruits. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the two chairs against the outside of a tent, and the women sat down.

            Europa sat on the very edge of her seat, looking like a cornered animal ready to bolt at any moment, but Sylva lounged lazily, resting one arm along the back of her own chair. Vulpes noted how natural she seemed in the position.

            “Men, I have a game for you,” Vulpes said. Immediately all four of the young men straightened up, chins held high as they listened for orders. Sand stuck to their bloody torsos, but none moved to brush it away. “Each of you will confess your undying love for my wife. In one hour, she will then tell me which of you has won her with your affections. That man will have the remainder of the day off to rest. You may use any knowledge you have acquired since joining the Legion’s Frumentarii.”

            Sylva cast a curious gaze in his direction, then to the men in front of her.

            One way or another, Vulpes would break in his woman – but there were other jobs he could not ignore. If he could use one to facilitate the other, there was at least a small chance both could be done sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104312659887/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxvi-notes) at tumblr.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN TAGS: sex, manipulation, dub-con, knives, cuts, blood.

            It had been four months since Sylva had given birth, and Vulpes was anxious to try a second time for a son. He asked the priestesses to confirm that his wife was ready and able to conceive, and they were waiting at Vulpes’ tent when he returned late that same evening.

            Sylva was waiting for him on his bed, eyes closed, wearing one of his deep-red formal tunics. He smiled in the dim light of the fire and moved towards the priestesses. Before he could ask, the head priestess nodded once. Vulpes’ grin grew wider.

            “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of thinking I will enjoy this,” Sylva said. She didn’t open her eyes as she spoke. “But I’m going to do myself a favor this time and not resist it.”

            “A wise choice,” Vulpes said, stripping away his armor. He noticed with a jolt that the three priestesses were gone, the only sign they had been present at all was a bowl of incense burning on the floor by the tent-flap. Their ability to slip away without notice even by _him_ made his skin crawl.

            Wordlessly, he lifted the tunic up over her head and let it fall to the ground beside the bed. Finally Sylva opened her eyes, not appearing surprised that he was already naked in front of her.

            This time, when Vulpes settled himself across her body she didn’t protest. She didn’t scream when he pushed into her. Her body hardly even tensed when he bit down on the flesh of her nape. He rolled them over so she sat astride him instead, gripping onto her hips with white-knuckled fingers.

            When she pressed a knife against his throat, he nearly laughed, fast understanding why she had been so willing. She stared down into his eyes, her hatred rolling off her skin in waves of heat.

            He chuckled softly, still thrusting into her with the same slow vigor. “You won’t kill me,” he said, quietly.

            “Won’t I?” she asked, holding his shoulder with one hand and holding the knife with the other.

            “No, you won’t,” he said simply.

            “Why?” she spat. It was a demand, not a question.

            Vulpes laughed outright and fucked her harder. “It would be too easy. You’d never forgive yourself for not taking the time to draw it out and really _enjoy it_.”

            A tortured snarl of rage ground out from her throat, and he knew he was right. When she instead drew the blade in two long, deep cuts splitting the skin across his collarbones it felt only like victory; his feral smile didn't hide his moans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes posted over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104314085612/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxvii-notes).


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT TAGS: brief reference to medic work.

            When Vulpes was tired of training men, he set back to work forming plans and preparing for action. It bored him, but he was good at it. He spent days on end in his tent, working through profiles and reports, working to find the right men for the right jobs; an endless puzzle for which he was given sole command over, yet something which he couldn’t control at all.

            “You in there, old man?” Drusus called through the tent-flap, his voice muffled by the fabric.

            “No,” Vulpes said with a dry grin. “I’m very far away, and there is no sense in trying to find me. You will just have to wait.”

            Drusus laughed and entered the tent, sweaty from working all day in the heat of the sun. “What’s the use in coming up with more plans when you’ve got no men to put on them?”

            “When I do have men, which I hope to soon, I will be ready to assign them duties,” Vulpes said, not turning around. He glanced over the various papers on his table. “At least I would, were there anywhere to send them.”

            “What about Bitter Springs?” Drusus asked, feigning innocence.

            With a scowl Vulpes turned on his brother. “Bitter Springs is a lost cause. We have no men to send there and there is little they would learn in—”

            “By the blood of Mars,” Drusus asked, looking in disgust at Vulpes shoulders. “What happened to you?”

            Vulpes looked down at the wounds on his shoulders, carefully sewn shut. “I was injured,” he said bluntly.

            “I can see that! Who was able to do that to you? And who sewed you up like—like—“

            “Like an old shirt? A new medic slave, I believe her name is Siri. She’s skilled, though her training is evidently incomplete,” Vulpes said, running a finger over the stitches.

            “She’s sewn you up like a doll with half the stuffing fallen out!”

            “She did good work, you must admit.”

            “Well fine, but what happened to you?” Drusus pushed.

            “I…” Vulpes trailed off, then smirked. “I was in an altercation.” He glanced to where Sylva was silently reading a book. She too wore a smirk behind its pages, silently proud of her handiwork.

            Drusus glanced between Vulpes and Sylva, slowly making the connection. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll come back later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104315093667/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxviii-notes).


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE TAGS: violence.

            The next time Sylva tried to kill him, it’s not through stealth and planning: it’s with bare fists and hate and strength which until that moment Vulpes wasn’t sure she had. He had to admit to himself that it was much more his style, though, when she had pulled a knife on him in bed. He had been impressed -he hadn’t seen it coming.

            This time he was surprised by her again. She was a wild and unpredictable woman, and he had too easily grown accustomed to her silence.

            Europa shrieked and dropped the clothing she had been carrying, which even made Petrus jump. With a swift grab Vulpes was able to throw Sylva past his shoulder to the ground. The side of his head throbbed where she had punched him, but he was a soldier; it would take more than a single blow to the head, much less from his own wife, for him to go down.

            He quickly straddled her chest with his legs and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. Beneath him she squirmed, trying to break free of his grasp.

            “I thought you were getting past this finally,” Vulpes said with a laugh.

            “I will never be past trying to kill you until I have successfully done so,” she spat, kicking her knee up hard into his back. He lurched forward slightly, but stayed on top of her.

            “I’m impressed, you used a big word. It must be a result of the endless reading you’ve done lately. Perhaps it is those same books that made you decide to attack me tonight?” he asked, smirking.

            “Maybe it’s just the fact that you beat me and use me only to make children.” Her eyes glared at him like fire.

            He looked down at her heaving chest as she tried again and again to dislodge him, slowly exhausting herself. “I seem to recall that you were the one, in fact, that attempted to beat me here. Though I may be remembering it incorrectly; you did punch me in the head, after all.”

            Sylva snarled, saying nothing.

            “I will overlook this, and take it as a sign of potential pregnancy. Your mood-swings are inevitable. Do not think, however, that I will be so lenient again.” His head ached as he stood and reached a hand out to help pull her up.

            She didn’t take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Notes!](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104315613437/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxix-notes)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY TAGS: rage.

            Drusus went missing the day after the recruits graduated to full Frumentarius status. The worst part was that Vulpes couldn’t even say he hadn’t expected it. Something about the fact that he had left the post at Bitter Springs unassigned rubbed Drusus the wrong way; it was visible in his eyes, the moment Vulpes had given the last assignment.

            Vulpes kicked his weapons trunk hard in frustration. It skittered partway under his bed and his chest heaved in anger.

            “Damn him,” Vulpes cursed. “Damn him! He knew I need him here, he knew his assignment and chose to ignore it.”

            “Maybe I should have been _his_ wife,” Sylva muttered sarcastically. “He listens to you about as much as I do.”

            Vulpes pretended not to hear her comment. “If he had told me then I could have told Caesar it was an assignment I had given him, but leaving secretly in the night with no warning only speaks of betrayal.” It stung more than Vulpes liked to think about. Drusus was his brother, his blood. The image of his daughter flashed into his mind, his mother, his grandparents – all unwelcome thoughts.

            “Damn, I really _should_ have been his wife then. Maybe I could have gotten out of here,” Sylva said as Europa combed her wild hair. Even Petrus huffed at that, shaking his head and continuing to braid a new whip for their master.

            Again Vulpes ignored her. The only thing he had in Drusus’ favor was the fact that he’d taken a radio. That meant he planned on reporting in, at least, though there was no way of knowing when. With luck, Drusus would at least have taken a glance at the radio schedule while he was in Communications. Plinius would have to work double shifts now until Drusus called in.

            “I mean, at least he’s pratical, from what I’ve seen,” Sylva went on. “At least not so much of an asshole.” Europa tried to hush her with a quiet “miss,” but Sylva continued. “Maybe he would have asked how I felt about it before raping and impregnating me. Or perhaps not have had this ‘Seizer’ parade me around like—”

            “Drusus is every bit as unpleasant as I am,” Vulpes interjected. “He’s more stubborn and less willing to see reason when he thinks he’s right. He breaks nearly every law, for no reason other than to say he has, and believes that no consequences will come to him. His skin boasts nearly as many infractions and mistakes as my own. And to use your words? He _is_ an asshole, and would have done far worse things to you. Be **grateful** you are mine, and not his.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE TAGS: Caesar is still in this story!

            After full month had passed, Vulpes gave up on hearing a report from Drusus. He returned Plinius to his usual shifts, with the understanding that the moment he heard anything from Drusus, if he ever did, he would send someone to fetch Vulpes.

            Sylva no longer taunted him about his brother’s absence; a few well-placed slaps had seen to that. She still seemed to plot his death any chance she could, however. As a result, he’d taken to drinking only from a canteen he filled himself. It would be difficult for Sylva to poison the wells, though he didn’t exactly put it past her either.

            The absence of his brother weighed heavily on his mind, even as he worked. He needed to get out for a while, to leave the Fort and his thoughts behind for a week.

            “Of course, Vulpes! If you think it will be worth it to bring these people onto our side, you’re the first man I’d send to try it,” Caesar said with a grin. “With luck, I’ll bet you’ll be the only man I’ll need to send.”

            “Not luck, only skill,” Vulpes said gently, giving an appreciative nod all the same. “With your permission, I will leave in the morning.”

            “Whenever you’d like,” Caesar said, brushing away the topic with a wave of his hand. “Lora! Water for us.”

            The woman instantly brought two cups and a pitcher of crisp, clear water for them. When she offered the second glass to Vulpes, he nearly hesitated, but took it. To refuse Caesar was, at best, unwise.

            He was still surprised when he didn’t suddenly start to choke when the glass touched his lips. Sylva had become absurdly creative with her attempts to murder him. In truth, he was often too amused by them to really punish her. It could all be brushed off as part of her pregnancy – strange swings of hormones bringing forth actions from emotions otherwise not acted upon.

            Siri had told him that she was likely to only get more violent, though the medic had been hesitant to say so. The woman didn’t seem to understand that he had no quarrel with her, that his issues were all with his wife.

            He knew the two women spoke often, but said nothing of it. He had hoped, silently, that perhaps Siri could teach Sylva a few things.

            Like things to put in his food that _wouldn’t_ poison him.

_  
_


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THRITY-TWO TAGS: A visit to the Strip, snake oil, and a most amusing plan.

            The bright lights of the Strip danced in front of Vulpes’ eyes, but he ignored them. The place was a breeding ground for corruption, profligates and the dissolute. It stank of stale tobacco and cheap booze, of whores and gunpowder. The securitrons glared down at him, but otherwise ignored him as much as everyone else. “Thank you for visiting New Vegas,” one of them barked, its tinny voice reverberating inside itself.

            Vulpes rolled his eyes and kept walking. Outside Gomorrah several barely-clothed women danced seductively, giggling as he approached. The woman at the desk inside directed him downstairs and through a maze of hallways to find the leader of the Omertas when he showed her the briefcase full of Legion gold he carried with him.

            Vulpes straightened, carefully hiding the distaste he felt. Grinning like a snake, he dove in. “Good evening. I am here to make you an offer on behalf of the mighty Caesar.”

            The man rolled his eyes. “Yeah? What kind of offer. I’ve been given offers from all sorts of people before, and you know what? They stink. Always.”

            Vulpes set down the briefcase and pushed it forward. One of the man’s guards opened it and turned it to show the contents.

            “A generous offer,” Vulpes said, still grinning. “Caesar is willing to help make yours the best, or perhaps even only, establishment of its type on the Strip.”

            The man eyed the gold carefully, glancing up at Vulpes before looking back down at it again. “What’s the catch?”

            “No catch, just a simple deal. When we take the Dam, your men secure the Strip for us. The money we will provide you with, in all forms of currency so as to avoid suspicion, will be more than enough to provide them all with better weapons for this purpose.” Vulpes pretended not to notice the guards looking back and forth between each other as he spoke.

            The man continued to stare at the golden coins. “How much we talking?”

            “Enough,” Vulpes said, not wanting to commit to any real numbers.

            “Let me think about it,” he said with a nod. A guard closed the case and returned it.

            “Keep the gold,” Vulpes said, turning to leave. “Consider it a down payment. When you agree to join us, send a representative to Fortification Hill with the message that Nero has come.”

            “Who the _fuck_ is Nero?”

            “You are, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief notes over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104317628077/authors-notes-for-chapter-xxxii-of-vulpes) at tumblr.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE TAGS: pregnancy, implied rape, rage, aggression, abuse.

            Most nights Vulpes could control himself. Others, he used the confines of his tent as an excuse to allow his thoughts to turn to cold. When he burst through the tent-flap, eyes like ice, Sylva usually knew to keep her mouth shut – but part of her, a large part of her Vulpes assumed, still wanted to anger him further.

            “Have a nice day at the office, dear?” she cooed from her bath. Europa was washing her hair.

            “I am beginning to wonder if you do anything but read and bathe,” Vulpes said, glaring at her. Moving past her, he dropped his whip onto his bed and started stripping away his armor. He couldn’t breathe with it on anymore.

            “Get out,” he snapped at Petrus, who scrambled up from where he was working and nearly ran out of the tent. “You too,” he added with a wave of his hand. Europa dropped the sponge she’d picked up and followed after Petrus.

            “What did you do that for?” Sylva said, obviously annoyed.

            “I am venting my frustration,” he said, emphasizing each word. He strode back across the tent to her and pulled her up by one arm, pressing her old towel to her chest. “Dry off if you’re going to.”

            “What are you doing—“

            He yanked her out of the tub and she yelped in pain. “I will not say it a second time,” he said, seething. Vulpes shoved her across the room and she stumbled onto his bed, crashing down onto it beside the whip. Vulpes tore it from its place, pressed it to her throat and watched her try to scream.

            He leaned down over her, sneering his distaste for her. “You will learn to make yourself useful, one way or another,” he said, kicking her legs apart. “You may be pregnant, but you are **not** useless.”

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR TAGS: vomiting, varied pregnant-woman-problems.

            Sylva spent a full week vomiting. It was bad enough that Vulpes almost felt bad for having used her as a target for his aggression – almost. Regardless, she needed to be able to eat. Nothing that went into her mouth stayed there for very long.

            He watched her retching hour after hour in her bed; she’d roll onto her side in pain and try to evacuate her already empty stomach, then growl in frustration as nothing came out.

“Did you poison me?” she groaned, clutching her stomach.

            Vulpes smirked and cocked his head to the side. “Did _you_ try to poison **_me?”_**

            “Only a little!” she shouted. She immediately seemed to regret it as her stomach convulsed with the force of her voice, gagging again.

            He shook his head, the smirk fading away. He noticed that even Petrus looked somewhat amused at her response, and Europa was biting on her lip to keep from laughing.

            “No, I did not try to poison you. You’re pregnant. The priestesses told you this is perfectly normal.”

            “I can’t eat a single fucking thing without it jumping back out of my mouth!” she snarled. “I don’t think this is totally fucking normal.”

            It was true, Vulpes admitted to himself. She had been unable to eat for longer than even he would have liked, but he didn’t want to give in to her, didn’t want to run and fetch the priestesses every time she was feeling under the weather. Still, something needed to be done.

            “Petrus,” he asked, voice calm and even, “go down and fetch Siri. Explain to her that it’s Sylva’s pregnancy causing problems again. Bring her back here. Then we can sort this out.”

            Petrus stood and gave a short nod, then placed the polishing stone on the edge of the table. He gave Sylva a sympathetic look on his way out, unable to do much more.

            Content with his choice of action, Vulpes leaned forward in his chair and picked up his sword and and the polishing stone. The stone felt smooth and worn in his hand, cooling his anger through his skin. He gently pushed it along the old blade, closing his eyes. The grinding of stone against metal sent shivers up his spine.

            “Stop,” Sylva begged, plugging her ears. “It just all needs to stop, I need silence—”

            “Then be silent.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE TAGS: sibling issues and Frumentarii things.

_“Field to Foxhole, I repeat, Field to Foxhole.”_

            Vulpes’ eyes widened as Plinius scrambled to grab the headphones beside the radio at the far end of the Communications table, plugging in the microphone as well.

            Vulpes motioned for him to turn the volume up. It went just loud enough for Vulpes to be able to hear as well.

            “Foxhole here, Courier ready for package,” he said, pulling out a blank sheet of paper to write on.

_“Foxhole: Send word to Big Brother that Desert Rain is en route to Roundup and will be at the Rodeo soon,”_ said the voice on the radio.

            Plinius scribbled quickly – Vulpes: Drusus is on his way to the 188 trading post and will be at Bitter Springs soon.

            Vulpes swore quietly and took the headphones and the microphone.

            Plinius nearly jumped out of his seat to make way for him. He continued to listen, writing down everything he heard; it was his job, after all.

            “Big Brother here,” Vulpes hissed into the radio. “Desert Rain is to return for—“

_“I’m afraid I can’t do that,”_ Drusus cut him off.

            “You will get your scrawny self back here so I may tan your hide. You’re breaking direct orders and ignoring the chain of command. You could be strung up for this,” Vulpes said, seething. His forehead knotted as he frowned.

_“And you know that does little to encourage me to return, don’t you? Big Brother, I need to do this.”_

            “Why?” Vulpes said, finally snapping. “What is it that makes this so important to you? Rodeo is of no strategic value as is.”

_“I need to bury our fallen. Eagle was a good friend, too good a friend. If I don’t do this, I’ll be compromised…”_ Drusus trailed off, not finishing his thought.

            Vulpes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do what you need to do and return to Foxhole immediately. Big Brother out.” He dropped the headphones to the table and rounded on Plinius, who was writing down the last few words. “None of this leaves this tent, you hear me?”

            “Yes, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes posted over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104400743552/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxxv-notes).


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX TAGS: domestic violence, abuse, and the abuse really goes two ways here in my opinion.

            In the end, Vulpes wondered if it had done any good at all to tell Drusus to return. There had been no communications from him since the first, and the silence gripped him tighter with each passing day.

            He fisted his hands in his hair, realizing how badly he needed to shave it when it stuck out far beyond his fingers. His paperwork lay scattered across the table, largely ignored.

            “Damn him,” Vulpes muttered to himself, dropping his head into his hands. He’d tried to distract himself with his trip to seduce the Omertas into Caesar’s grasp, but the diversion had only sedated his mind for a few days.

            It was no surprise of course when the newly named Nero had sent three of his men to Fortification Hill to accept terms and join with the Legion. Had they not accepted, it was obvious that the Legion would simply choose to fund another of the Strip’s Families; the Omertas couldn’t afford to say no to that kind of offer.

            With a violent sweep of his arm the papers were strewn across the floor.

            “Well look at you, caring and all that,” Sylva teased. Her stare scorched the back of his neck.

            “He is a good soldier. I do not want to take the time to train a replacement,” Vulpes said. It was true, but there was more to it. He picked up a few of the papers and dropped them back on the table.

            Sylva rolled her eyes. “He’s your brother. You’re allowed to care, you know. Family, and all that. He’s your family. Of course, that didn’t stop you from murdering your own newborn daughter.” The sudden venom in her voice surprised him.

            Vulpes held in his sigh. “He is a soldier.”

            She shook her head in disbelief. “You are one sick, twisted fuck. You won’t even allow yourself to really care. If he dies, it’s just an inconvenience to you, isn’t it.” With shaking hands, she moved to stand across from him, leaning down over his work. “I can see it in your eyes, you don’t even give a shit about your own family.”

            Eyes flaring and teeth bared, Vulpes reached out and slapped her, knocking her offending gaze away. “I am a Frumentarius,” he said through gritted teeth. “The greatest of Caesar’s Frumentarii. You see only what I want you to see. There _**is**_ nothing else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104400743552/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxxvi-notes).


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN TAGS: violence, death, blood, arena fighting.

            Unarmed combat. Fist against fist. It was one of the only things that could allow Vulpes to relax, to let go, to just fight until there was no one and nothing left standing around him. No planning, no careful work, just pain.

            The only thing better was when his enemy was armed and he wasn’t.

            A Frumentarius could only be formed in the best soldiers the Legion produced. On rare occasions they would find a particularly promising recruit and immediately put him in training to be one. More often than not the Frumenatarii were formed from Centuriones and Decanum that showed particular promise.

            But there were other ways to join. Any legionary could submit themselves to a test by the leader of the Frumentarii. They were given nothing but their machete and light armor. As the opponent to beat, Vulpes was given his fists, gloves, and the lower half of a tunic.

            Sweat poured down the back of his neck, slicking his skin under the noonday sun. He steadied his breathing; only two more. Blood splattered the sandy ground: most of it wasn’t his. A single cut across his back proved he was mortal. It stung, a dull pain that he easily ignored.

            Only one of the challengers was successful in surviving his onslaught. The rest were piled outside the entrance to the arena. Another stepped through into the the bloody arena, flexing his fingers and trying out his machete.

            This one was young, Vulpes suspected the youngest he’d faced all day. Maybe only a recruit. He looked eager to prove himself, to show his worth.

            “Fool,” Vulpes muttered. Glory only went to the survivors.

            As the drums sounded the beginning of the match, the roaring of the crowd was slowly drowned out by the roaring of blood in his ears. His fists ached. He couldn’t tell if the blood on them was his own or someone else’s. With a quiet laugh he realized it was probably both.

            “Come on,” he whispered, watching the young legionary carefully. “If you want to play, pup, here’s your chance.”

            The legionary’s fingers gripped into the leather-wrapped hilt of his machete as he ran forward, youthful face contorted into snarl.

            With a quick twist Vulpes grabbed the boy’s arm and knocked the sword out of it, punched him in the sternum, an uppercut to the jaw, pinned him with a foot on the boy’s boot, took hold of his neck and twisted. The body crumpled to the ground.

            “Iterum, vinco.” In truth, he was disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes over [here](http://adira-tyree.tumblr.com/post/104403831197/vulpes-memoriae-chapter-xxxvii-notes) at tumblr.
> 
> Latin: "Again, I am victorious."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 38 TAGS: medical discussion, pregnancy, dangerous situations.

            Sylva groaned like an angry yao guai. “Get this thing out of me,” she snapped. Her heavy belly was growing bigger every day.

            “I’m not sure you want me to do that,” Vulpes said with a crooked grin. “My intervention would likely be… less than pleasant.”

            Again Sylva groaned, fisting her hands in her hair.

            Still, Vulpes _was_ concerned. If Siri was right, she was several weeks past her due date. He knew little of how such things worked, but if Siri was concerned…

            “I’m not a midwife,” Siri said, looking between the two. “I never finished learning about the details of an actual pregnancy, only delivery. But I can tell you, that baby’s ready _now._ We just have to wait for her body to catch up.”

            “How long?” Vulpes asked, cocking his head to the side. He appreciated Siri’s straightforward attitude and how forthcoming she was with information. The Priestesses rarely spoke, other than to say that the plans of the Gods were never obvious.

            “Well, we think she should have delivered some weeks ago, but a longer pregnancy isn’t unheard of. The real problem is if the baby’s getting too big. If the head’s too big, it might not even be able to come out naturally,” Siri said, shifting from one foot to the other. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything to focus on that wasn’t either Vulpes or Sylva.

            “What do you mean, not coming out naturally?” Sylva asked. Her voice was suddenly much higher pitched. “What do you mean?”

            “We’ll hope for a normal birth if you go into labor soon,” Siri said, looking down and trailing off. She glanced up at Vulpes. “Bigger babies aren’t always a problem, really. Not usually.”

            He held her gaze, raising an eyebrow in question.

            “But if the child’s head **is** too big to pass through the birth canal, we’ll need to perform a caesarian-section,” she finished, dropping her eyes back to the ground. “It’s not a difficult surgery, but without the proper tools I can’t–”

            “No,” Sylva said, her eyes growing wider with every second. “No, you can’t—”

            “We may not have an option.” Siri’s voice was pained. “It could all be fine, but… there _is_ the possibility that it might not be…”

            “No…” Sylva mumbled, clawing at her face. “No… no, no, no…”


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 39 TAGS: family, poor life decisions.

_“Field to Foxhole, I repeat, Field to Foxhole.”_

            “Foxhole here, Courier ready for package.”

_“Foxhole: inform Big Brother that Desert Rain is en route to home. Eagle’s body was found in the middle of the desert, partially devoured by bark scorpions. I tried to get all of him, but there’s no way to know. He’s been laid to rest now. Shot down all the scorpions too.”_

            “Confirmed. Eagle laid to rest, Desert Rain en route.” Plinius carefully wrote out each word and set the paper on top of the stack Vulpes was picking up.

            Vulpes tried not to show his relief at the sound of Drusus’ voice, if only because he knew there was little he could do to help his brother now. Even if Drusus did return unscathed, he would need to be reprimanded for his actions. He had gone against direct orders.

            He didn’t want to crucify his own brother. Vulpes suppressed a shudder, remembering he may have no option in the matter. All Frumentarii reported to Caesar before leaving on their missions. Drusus had simply disappeared.

            He’d be labeled a deserter, regardless of the reasoning behind his actions.

            Vulpes set down the files and picked up the headphones and bent down over the microphone.

            “Foxhole to Field.”

_“...Field here, Foxhole.”_

            “You know what’s waiting for you if you return, Desert Rain.”

            Silence. Vulpes shook his head.

            “You brought this on yourself,” Vulpes said, his voice quiet and flat.

_“Copy that, Foxhole. Thanks for the heads-up, Big Brother. See you soon.”_

            Vulpes leaned heavily on his arms, dropping his head. “Confirmed. See you soon. Big Brother out.”

            He tried not to think about the feeling in his stomach, like rocks and glass grinding against his insides. His mouth tasted of ash and sand. The light of the dying sun was too bright in his eyes.

            It all came down to blood.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 40 TAGS: medical, pregnancy, childbirth, drama, complications, off-screen mostly.

            The shrieks that fell from Sylva’s lips as she struggled, screaming about how she knew how to push, curdled even Vulpes’ frozen blood.

            It left him unsurprised when Siri asked to speak with him privately.

            “There isn’t much we can do for her,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That baby is just not coming out the normal way. If we don’t do the caesarian we’ll lose them both.”

            Vulpes sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t like the idea himself. This woman was a gift form Caesar himself. To do anything that might allow her to die would be an insult, but what could be done? If there was anything that could be done to save at least the child, they had to try.

            A shiver ran down his spine. What if it was another girl?

            The odds were against him. The priestesses chanted in the background, their hushed voices covered by Sylva’s screams.

            “Do what you have to do.”

            “I don’t think I have the skills to—“

            “Then tell them to!” Vulpes snapped, gesturing to the chanting women.

            Siri’s eyes widened and she jogged quickly back to where Sylva lay panting, still trying to force the child from her insides.

            Vulpes hated the medic-field. The place stank of rotting flesh and the various soldiers and slaves scattered about were never in good enough condition to recover. It was no secret that going there was more of a risk than a help. He wondered if the same held true for the women giving birth, that it made them more likely to die than to live.

            He watched Sylva shaking, fear evident on her face when Siri returned. Once Siri and the Priestesses left to prepare for the surgery Vulpes moved towards her.

            “Am I going to die?” she asked, wild eyed and confused.

            “I don’t know,” he said. “It is possible, perhaps even likely.”

            Sylva shook her head slowly. A laugh, dark and delirious started deep in her chest, then turned into a full blown cackle. “Then even you, with all your plans and papers, can’t predict everything. First I give you a girl, now I die in childbirth. One miserable little woman, just throwing all your plans away. Have fun raising this one alone.” She coughed so hard she had to grab onto the bed to keep from falling off it. _“This_ is my final victory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes to come.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 41 TAGS: family, slavery?, the same general themes continued...

            “Ajax,” Caesar commented. “Mourner. An interesting choice of name.”

            “It seemed fitting,” Vulpes said, watching the infant in Caesar’s arms. “He is strong. He’s already taken his first life, after all. Yet it is obvious he aches for the arms of his mother.”

            “I’m sorry about what happened to her,” Caesar said. He stared down at the sleeping baby. “They said there was nothing they could do; too much blood.”

            Vulpes nodded his head once in thanks. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about losing her. She had always caused him grief, a relentless source of annoyance and frustration. Still, he’d grown to hold a strange sort of fondness for her quips. She reminded him of Drusus.

            Drusus, though, he could not simply tie up when the man misbehaved. If he could, Vulpes wouldn’t be worrying about losing him, too.

            Watching the infant in the suddenly too quiet camp of Fortification Hill, Vulpes realized he could not escape death if he tried. Whether he was inflicting it or it was taking lives around him, death was the only constant he knew. The clash of the new life in front of him was jarring.

            Caesar carefully handed the child back to Vulpes. It felt so tiny and soft. But Vulpes knew that in only a few years the boy would already have his first few battle scars – even if only from training. A life in the Legion meant pain, but it was a life well worth living.

            “If there’s anything you need to care for him, it’s yours. I know you’re at somewhat of a disadvantage now, without the mother. I had Lucius check down at the pens though. He says there’s a woman down there that’s just delivered a stillborn. We’re calling her Lavinia, she’s so calm. Does whatever she’s told and doesn’t fuss about it. She’d make a good wet-nurse,” Caesar said, taking a glass of water from the tray Lora offered.

            Vulpes nodded his agreement. “Then if my Lord Imperator does not object—”

            “I’ve already taken the liberty of having her delivered to your tent,” Caesar said, grinning. “She’s a little older than Sylva was, but doesn’t need to be broken in at all. She’s yours. Do whatever you want with her.”

            “Thank you, Imperator.” Vulpes bowed slightly and turned to go.

            “Oh and Vulpes, I need you to do a little research. There’s this thing House is after called ‘the platinum chip’ or some shit. I don’t know what it is, but he’s crazy about it. Figure out what you can about it and get back to me.”

            “It will be done, Imperator.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories for the Road is not "required reading" for the series. If you would like to skip on to Returning Home from here, you will still be quite able to follow along. Thanks for reading my demented writing in the first place. More notes to come.


End file.
